Summer in the Snow
by lillyarie
Summary: After the death of her parents, highborn Lord's daughter Nalia is sent to be a ward of Lord Eddard Stark. She takes time to warm up to the Northerners, but there's a shy dark-eyed man who knows how it feels be an outsider too. Can Nalia be the one to melt his heart? [Jon S. x OC, set before the events of GoT season 1 and may become slightly AU after that] M rating for the future.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! This is my first fic for GoT. I hope you enjoy it!**  
 **Note: Of course I don't own any characters (except Nalia who is my OC) and give all credit for the original work to G.R.R. Martin!**

Nalia of House Curran stood solemnly in the small sept of her keep, while her eldest brother Dorion said a prayer over the bodies of her mother and father. Her septa stood slightly behind her with a hand on her shoulder. Nalia, who was usually annoyed by the presence of the snippy septa, allowed her to reach for her hand and grip it tightly. Nalia's other hand dabbed at her own eyes with her handkerchief.

"Thank you, Dorion," the High Septon said softly when Nalia's brother finished. "I am sure your parents would have been very proud." He turned to address the crowd of mourners made up of most of the village. "Now, my children, I ask you not to fear, but to trust in the Seven during this trying time. Death begins a life anew for our Lord, Dramond Curran, and his wife the Lady Maraelyn Curran. " Nalia watched while the Septon placed stones painted to look like eyes—one set green, for her mother, and one set blue, for her father—onto her parents' closed eyelids. Despite the seriousness of the situation, it almost made her laugh, so comical were the eye stones.

"They shall close their eyes in this world, but open them in the afterlife." The High Septon turned his head up to face the seven-pointed star painted on the ceiling. "To the gods."

After the ceremony, Nalia was still sniffling when many of the patrons shuffled out of the keep. Ardagh, the proud home of House Curran, was not a large city. The sept was made of wood, not stone, and bards never wrote songs about their strong walls or great castles. But to Nalia, it was the most beautiful kingdom in Westeros. Ardagh was by the sea, and the family's house sat perched near the edge of a cliff, where Nalia could watch the waters rage and boil long after she was supposed to be asleep. She had grown up learning to fish and steer (small) boats with her older brothers, as well as becoming quite the swimmer. She loved the warmth of the ocean's breeze and the sunshine on her face. There would be no other place she could ever call home.

This, however, was about to change. Lord Curran had had five sons, the first two being a pair of twins. Dorion, already 24, had been trained as a warrior, while his studious twin Darion was bound for the sept. The next three boys—Oran (22), Yael (21), and Grayson (19) were also highly accomplished fighters and intellectuals. The problem was that the six children of Lord Curran had no living relatives on either parent's side, and the five boys didn't know what to do with their only sister, Nalia, who was just seventeen. There was nothing for her here without a mother to arrange a marriage or a father to take care of her, something the rough and tumble boys also knew nothing about. After much deliberation with the maesters and their connections to the surrounding houses, it was decided that Nalia would be sent to the faraway kingdom of Winterfell, to become a ward of Lord Eddard Stark and his wife, Lady Catelyn. Lord Eddard has been one of her father's closest friends and allies, and each had promised the other to take care of their children if anything were to happen.

Nalia didn't see why she was the only one who had to go. Yes, she was a _girl_ , but her brothers were hardly men, at least in her eyes. Besides, what was there in the North that could serve her better than here? Ardagh was small, but they had septons, a library, the sea...

"Are you alright sister?" Her brother Darion's soft voice cut into her thoughts.

Nalia shook out her long brown hair, wiping at the tears on her face that had already dried. "Of course, brother. If you disregard the fact that both of our parents are dead and you're shipping me off to freeze in a pile of snow!"

"Sister," he said calmly, "you know that we have thought about this. Your brothers cannot take care of you. We don't know what will become of House Curran or even who is to be father's successor. We must discuss all of this with a council. For you, this is best. Lord Eddard is an honourable man and his wife is a kind woman. She has daughters around your age as well, so you will not be alone."

Nalia shrugged. "Daughters! What do I care? I've managed just fine these seventeen years without a sister. I'm seventeen, Darion, and I don't need a septa or a playmate! I can _help_ you. Why not let me stay?"

Darion shook his head. His dark brown hair favoured their father's side, while Nalia more closely resembled their mother. "Nalia, it is final. Septa Sorund will accompany you to Winterfell, along with our finest soldiers. Once there you will join the Stark children with their septa and you'll be provided your own handmaiden."

"Oh, great," Nalia said while rolling her eyes. "I can't wait to listen to that old sod Sorund tell me the histories of the houses once more, for a month-long journey."

Even Darion had to laugh, for he too had had to listen to the aging septa's stories. "Now sister, it's not quite a month's journey. It will be two weeks at the most, which is not far off for you to visit home and for us to visit you. I promise, you'll be safer and happier in Winterfell."

"I doubt it," Nalia said with a sigh. She threw her head back and walked with disdain towards her family's home. Her brother did not try to follow her. He'd dealt with his sister long enough to know when to leave her be.

Inside her room, her old handmaiden Reena was already there, packing the last of Nalia's things into a large trunk. Nalia ignored her and walked straight to her wide window. She pushed the shutters open and looked out. The sun was setting on Ardagh, and she knew it would be the last seaside sunset she would see for a while. She watched, chin in hand. _Oh mother, oh father, why did you have to die?_ She knew her parents had been caught in rough waters while sailing back from a visit to her mother's family's town. Even with his seafaring experience, Lord Curran could not fight the waves, and both of them drowned. Nobody had even known until their ship failed to return on time, and Dorion ordered an army ship to look for them. Ever since that day, Nalia's life was in chaos.

"My lady," Reena said timidly, "would you like to take a bath? It will be quite some time before you can have another, and the road could be very dirty."

Nalia turned and opened her mouth to say something sarcastic to Reena, but she held her tongue. The handmaiden was just trying to be helpful after all. She pursed her lips and then smiled. "That sounds like a lovely idea, Reena. Thank you."

After the bath was drawn, Nalia sunk into it and collected her thoughts together. Everything was happening so fast. She felt like she'd barely had time to mourn for her parents, although she knew she'd have plenty while on the long journey north. What would become of her in Winterfell? She hoped the Starks were as nice as her brothers had promised. She vaguely recalled meeting Lord Eddard when she was younger, but she couldn't remember what he'd looked like or why he'd been in Ardagh. _He'll never replace Father, but if he's anything like him, I'm sure he's a great man._

Nalia hardly slept that night, but she tried to think of it as an adventure. Her father had always called her his little explorer from the first day she could walk. Though she enjoyed sewing and braiding her hair, she also loved to walk through the forest and collect snakes and frogs. _I wonder, are there snakes and frogs in Winterfell, or will it be too cold?_

Her last thought before she fell asleep was of her parents, smiling down at her from the sky above Ardagh. Her life by the sea was about to end, but she couldn't help but be slightly excited about what was to come.

 **A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the beginning, sorry it was only about my OC so far but I wanted to get her back story there so you could understand a bit more about her. Please review if you can and I hope you'll enjoy this journey as I take Nalia to Winterfell :) thx! -Lilly**


	2. Chapter 2

The journey to Winterfell was two weeks of bumpy roads and an increasing chill in the air. By the time the modest covered carriage stopped within the gates of the northern city, Nalia could scarcely feel her fingers, even though she donned her gloves. Because her city occasionally felt the strong breezes off the sea, Nalia was no stranger to wearing thin shawls or long-sleeved dresses in Ardagh, but the very air of Winterfell was bitterly cold to her. She shuddered thinking of the House Stark words: "Winter is coming." It was not even that time yet, and she was already freezing.

She stepped out of the carriage late in the afternoon and was greeted by a clan of smiling faces. She hadn't expected that the entire family would come to greet her—she was no queen, after all—but she counted at least five people before she was dragged over by her septa to face the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

Lord Eddard stood tall in a dark cloak topped with grey furs of some kind. Of course he had aged quite a bit since the last time Nalia had seen him Ardagh, but he still looked fierce and strong. His eyes, however, were kind, and crinkled in the corners when he smiled down at Nalia.

"My dear Lady Curran," he said gruffly, but nicely, "we are very sorry to hear of the passing of your parents. Your father was one of my best friends, and your mother was a truly remarkable and honourable woman in her own right." He lifted Nalia's hand and placed a small kiss on the back of it. Nalia, who was feeling many emotions at once, struggled with her reply.

"Thank you, Lord Stark, for your kind words and for your hospitality towards me," she managed with a prod in the back from Septa Sorund. She turned her attention to Catelyn Stark, who had the face and hair colour of the Tully family, but the same kindness in her eyes as Lord Eddard. "And to you, Lady Stark, for opening your arms to my family as well."

"You are most welcome," Catelyn replied with a wide smile. "We are all eager for you to join us." She looked down the row of curious faces to her left. "My children are excited to meet you as well." She looked reproachfully at her oldest son, who cleared his throat and began introductions.

"Welcome, my Lady, my name is Robb Stark," he said, clearly and authoritatively. Nalia blushed at his warm smile. "We are very glad to have someone from the proud House Curran here." Robb poked the person next to him, a much smaller boy who looked about nine or ten.

"I'm Bran," the boy spoke up. "I know your words, you know. House Curran: 'Unrelenting as the sea,' And your sigil is a wave with a sword!"

Nalia laughed. "I see somebody has been studying. This is good, Bran."

The next little boy, who couldn't have been older than five, stepped forward with his fingers in his mouth. "I'm Rickon and I like doggies," he said shyly. Nalia smiled and patted him on the head.

The next Stark was a girl, almost as tall as she, with flaming red hair spilling over a light blue gown. "I'm Sansa, my lady," she said, curtsying. Her eyes were bright as she grabbed Nalia's hand. "I'm _so_ pleased to have another girl here!"

"What does that make me?" The girl beside her piped up. Her hair was braided awkwardly and her shawl crooked. To Nalia, she added, "I'm Arya. And don't think I'll be sewing dresses with you lot."

"Arya!" Sansa gasped. She looked apologetically at Nalia. "Sorry, my lady, she still has much to learn about social graces."

"It's alright," she said softly. She met another young man, whose name was Theon, who smiled flirtatiously when he informed her that he, too, was a ward of Lord Eddard. Nalia tried to smile back, but she was overwhelemed by his lecherous gaze. Lady Catelyn noticed, and stepped in.

"I assume that both you and your company are quite tired," she said to Nalia, her septa, and the soldiers who stood guard of the carriage and luggage. "Please, we will show you to the great hall, where we have some soup still on the fire, and we will then show you to your quarters, my lady. For your friends, we have temporary accommodations, as we know that would not like to simply turn around and begin another long journey so soon."

Nalia sighed inwardly, as she would have liked to be rid of Septa Sorund immediately, but she held her tongue and smiled. "Thank you, my lady," she replied dutifully.

Sansa walked beside Nalia, chatting about Southern hairstyles and how she wished to see the sea of Ardagh someday. Nalia was barely listening, instead taking in the sights and sounds of Winterfell. It was much larger than Ardagh and its walls were high stone, manned by guards. As they entered the Great Hall, Nalia was stunned by the high ceilings and how many people it could house. It felt like the entire kingdom could fit in there.

They were seated at the high table and Lady Catelyn hurried to the kitchen to ask the cooks to prepare some soup for the guests. Nalia sat fidgeting with her cold hands and spotted someone walking towards the group. He was tall, not unlike Lord Eddard, with dark curly hair that framed his oval face to the shoulders. He had a scruffy beard, but he was dressed elegantly in a fine dark cloth tunic, and the Stark furs around his shoulders. He tossed them to the side when he approached the table and focused his dark, intense gaze on Nalia.

She swallowed hard. "Hello," she managed. He was so handsome that she had trouble saying anything else. Fortunately, one of the younger Stark boys jumped in.

"This is our brother, Jon Snow," Bran explained.

 _Oh, I see,_ Nalia thought to herself. _Where I come from, they're named Waters._ Bastards were common across all of Westeros. Nalia had always thought that it was unfortunate that they had to have different surnames. After all, it wasn't their fault that their fathers had had them illegitimately.

"It's nice to meet you, Jon Snow," Nalia said carefully. "My name is Nalia of House Curran."

Jon Snow nodded as if to say, _I know._ Instead, he replied, "It's good to meet you." He barely smiled and instead, turned his eyes to Lord Eddard. "My Lord, word has come from the Wall. A deserter." He swallowed hard, like this news affected him personally.

Lord Eddard's gaze hardened. "I see." He turned to the table. "Robb, Theon, let's go." He paused and then added, "You too, Bran."

"Ned, no," Catelyn pleaded. "He's much too young."

Lord Eddard sighed. "He won't be a boy forever, Cat." He turned again and bowed slightly to Nalia and her company. "Please forgive me, but I have a Lord's duties to attend to. I trust you will find your accommodations adequate. Please don't hesitate to let any of the assistants know if you need anything."

Ned and the four boys trailed out of the room. Nalia wasn't sure what had happened. She knew deserting the Wall was a bad thing, and she thought it rude to pry on a sensitive subject, so she continued to eat her soup while Sansa talked her ear off. She didn't mind too much. It was a welcome change to Septa Sorund quizzing her about House history and reminding her that she was a guest to the Starks and all of that. Nalia wondered how she didn't die of boredom during the journey.

The quarters Nalia had been given were quite large, and the bed was loaded with fur blankets to keep her warm through the northern nights. Her room—she couldn't believe it—had a fireplace in it, and one of the servants built it up for her so that it was raging while she unpacked her things. She stopped for a moment to hold her hands in front of the fire, letting them warm up again. She would have to ask Sansa about some materials for sewing thicker gloves. The girls' bedrooms were just down the hall from each other in the great keep of Winterfell. The boys, including Lord Stark's ward, were further down the hall and around a corner.

She'd gotten a tour around Winterfell by Sansa and Lady Catelyn, while Arya minded Rickon. The land was expansive and isolated, but it was also beautiful in a different way than her own homeland. As much as she missed Ardagh and the salty smell of the sea, Nalia had to admit that the crisp winter air smelled just as sweet. She met the woman who would be her Septa, and her new handmaiden, Aliya, who seemed competent enough. Lady Catelyn also introduced her to Maester Luwin and Hodor, a simple but kind stable boy (more like a man to Nalia, but she said nothing).

After all of the tours, introductions, and unpacking, Nalia was incredibly tired. She wished to just change and settle into bed. Going through her trunk, however, she could see that her hairbrush wasn't there. She looked under her bed to see if it had fallen, and picked through her drawers to see if it had been lost with her clothes. _There's no way I could have forgotten it... unless..._ Reena sometimes absentmindedly put Nalia's hairbrush into her apron pocket when she was in a hurry, and would forget to put it back on the night table. Nalia sighed. Her hair was wild and tangled from weeks on the road. She didn't want to sleep on the mess another night. _Perhaps Sansa has one I could borrow..._

Nalia stepped gingerly out of her room and closed the door. It was dark, and the candles offered little light in the vast, high-ceilinged hallway. She squinted ahead, trying to remember if Sansa's bedroom was on the left or the right.

Suddenly, she felt something wet on her leg. She looked down and, in the dim light, could see the outline of a wolf, its red eyes gleaming, its tongue hanging out and lapping at her ankle. She wanted to scream, but even in her fear she felt it would be rude to wake up the entire house. Her heart was beating like mad as she stood, one hand on the wall, the other reaching for the candle stick holder to whack the wild creature. She gripped it and raised it over her head, bringing it down towards the wolf's white little head.

"Don't!" Someone whisper-yelled into her ear. A hand grabbed her arm, causing her to drop the candle holder to the floor. It landed with a clatter and echoed down the silent hallway. The candle slipped from its place and illuminated the floor.

Nalia turned to see the piercing dark eyes of Jon Snow looking into hers. The wolf, which she could see now was barely a pup, whimpered and pawed at Jon's leg. To her surprise, Jon picked it up by the scruff of its neck and cradled him.

"I apologize, my lady," Jon said softly. He petted the little wolf lovingly. "This is Ghost."

Nalia could barely speak, but she managed to croak, "What are you _thinking_ , bringing a wolf in here?!"

Jon shrugged. "We found a dead direwolf today," he explained. "She had five pups. One for each of the Stark children. Well, so we thought." He let Ghost lick his face. "Ghost is the sixth."

"White like snow," Nalia said with a smile. She reached out tentatively and petted the direwolf. He licked her hand and she grinned even wider.

Jon looked at a loss for words. "Yes, well, I'm sorry to have frightened you," he said softly. "I pray you have a good night, my lady."

"You may call me Nalia," she offered.

She thought she saw Jon smile for the first time, but it was hard to tell. His face was stone, his eyes narrow. "Okay, Nalia," he agreed, and he nodded slightly before he turned to leave. Nalia picked up the candle holder and put it back on the wall, and then slipped the candle back into its place. She looked longingly at the corner where Jon had disappeared to. _He seems..._ Unfriendly wasn't the right word. _Shy. Guarded. Mysterious._

 _And handsome_ , she noted before quietly returning to her room. The hairbrush could wait until the next day. Sansa was probably sleeping anyways.

 _Oh yes. Very handsome._

 **A/N: Hiiiiiii everyone! Thanks to those who favourited the story! I was excited to finally introduce Jon and yes, if you're familiar with the show there are a couple lines of dialogue in there from season one. Please review if you can and let me know how you liked the interactions! Xo Lilly**


	3. Chapter 3

Septa Sorund had been by Nalia's reluctant side since she was born. Day after day, from the time she was old enough to understand and retain knowledge, the septa had educated Nalia with a relentless force (or so it seemed to the bored young girl). The septa was plain faced and stern beneath her head scarf and had a no-nonsense approach to everything from the history of the Seven Kingdoms to how to braid one's hair. However, only one week after they had arrived in Winterfell, the septa and the accompanying guards of Ardagh returned to the seaside keep, and Nalia truly felt alone. It suddenly hit her that this was not just a visit she was on to a neighbouring town, but a lengthy stay that could encompass months, if not years. She wondered if her brothers would be good on their promise to visit. Even the septa, though her company was lacking, helped Nalia to feel like she wasn't in a completely foreign land.

After her brief encounter with the bastard son, Nalia had scarcely seen Jon Snow, so eager was he to avoid Stark gatherings. She could tell from the way he interacted with his siblings that he loved them and they loved him, but Nalia had also noticed a chill in the air whenever he came into the same space as Lady Catelyn. Nalia had sympathy for them both, for how could a woman bear to look at the product of her own husband's unfaithfulness for nineteen years? But as well, how could a woman treat a child so poorly when he had no part in his father's wrong choices? Nalia wasn't sure how she might handle the situation, but then again, marriage was hardly on her mind.

The afternoon after the Ardagh party had set off, there was a knock at Nalia's door. She smoothed her hair down and opened it. Sansa curtsied and greeted her with a wide smile.

"Nalia!" she said excitedly. "My friend Jeyne Poole and I have acquired some lovely fabric to sew dresses from. Would you like to make one?" She bounced eagerly. "We were hoping, my Lady, if it does not trouble you, that you might teach us to sew dresses in a Southern style."

Though Nalia felt lonely, she knew that spending time with new friends was sure to bring her out of the slump she felt in. She nodded at Sansa and returned her smile. "Most certainly, Lady Sansa. I would be happy to show you and your friend the patterns of the South… but only if you are to show me how to put together some shawls and gloves for the North!"

The two girls walked together to the courtyard. The sun shone down on them, but the day was cool, and Nalia could see wispy fluffs of snow dancing through the chilly air. _Snow already? It's not even winter…_ But Nalia knew that winter was coming. There hadn't been a day yet since she'd been in Winterfell that someone did not remind her.

Sansa's direwolf, Lady, trailed the two girls. Nalia had been introduced to all of the Starks' wolves since her first encounter with one that night in the hall, and she preferred Ghost to all of them. He was quietest, but she had to admit that Lady was well behaved and protective too.

"Jeyne is the daughter of the steward, Vayon Poole," Sansa explained while they walked.

"How lovely," Nalia murmured.

Sansa led Nalia to a modest home not far from her own, still within the gates. She knocked politely, and the door was answered by an older woman, who had to be Jeyne's mother.

"Sansa!" A girl sitting at a table in the main foyer stood up and grabbed Sansa's hands. She squealed and then turned her attention to Nalia. "My dear Lady Nalia! How lovely of you to join us." Jeyne looked a lot like Nalia, her long brown hair braided in a single plait down her back. "Please, sit."

Jeyne had spread out scissors, measuring sticks, fabric cutters, and drawn patterns out over the large table. Draped over one of the empty chairs were several yards of different fabrics that looked thick and warm, much more so than the fabrics Nalia used to make her summery dresses in Ardagh. One large piece was a light blue colour, one was red, and the other an emerald green.

"Lady Nalia, as you are the guest, you may choose a fabric first," Jeyne suggested. She held the emerald green shift up to Nalia's chest. "I believe this colour will suit you well, my lady. It is best to match a dress with your eyes, after all."

Nalia smiled. "And I believe the red one will favour your dark hair and amber eyes, Jeyne," she suggested. "Of course, Sansa outshines us both in the blue."

The girls all laughed and Nalia began to show them how they could adjust their usual patterns to make the dresses into a more "summer" style. Of course the dresses would not be finished that day, but the two Northern girls seemed eager to start, and Nalia enjoyed spending time with them.

"Nalia, before you had to come to Winterfell, had your father ever spoken to you about who you might marry?" Jeyne inquired curiously.

Sansa looked horrified. "Jeyne, don't be rude."

"How is it rude?" Jeyne pressed her leg against Nalia's. "Please, my lady, regale us. I bet it was to be a handsome Lord's son from a southern kingdom."

Nalia laughed. "It's alright, Sansa. And Jeyne, I am being honest when I tell you that my father hadn't discussed it much with me. I knew it might happen in the future, but with five older brothers, my father was more worried about keeping them in line."

"Are any of your brothers handsome like Sansa's?" Jeyne pressed. "If only I were a true Lord's daughter, to marry Robb Stark…"

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Robb is far too proud to be anyone's husband. I would prefer a much handsomer man anyway." She cut some fabric from her piece. "A lord, or even a prince, with golden hair and a smile to make me melt."

Nalia immediately thought of Jon Snow, how she'd caught his brief smile in the candlelight when she'd first met Ghost. "A handsome man will only stay handsome for so many years though," she said, more to herself than the others. "His character is what you ought to look at." She turned to Sansa. "Your brother Robb is quite courteous, I enjoy him very much. And to answer your question, Jeyne, I suppose my brothers could be called handsome, but they are too wild to me."

"Perhaps you will marry Robb then," Jeyne suggested deviously. Nalia almost dropped her cutting knife.

"Stop it, Jeyne, don't tease her," Sansa snipped. "She's got her head filled with flowers and romance, Nalia."

"Oh, as if you do not!" Jeyne shot back, but she was smiling. "What girl doesn't dream of romance? A brave and loyal man, strong and handsome and true, who will sweep me off my feet with a single glance."

Nalia laughed harder than she meant to. "You ought to tell stories, Jeyne," she suggested. She sighed a little. "I've honestly never cared for a man who had to show how brave and wonderful he was all the time. I would prefer a quieter man who isn't looking for gold or glory. The only thing I need from a husband is for him to show me that he loves me above any other woman."

Sansa and Nalia looked bewildered. "Sounds a bit boring," Jeyne squeaked before she shut her mouth.

Nalia shrugged. She had had thoughts of marriage, but only because her father had made it clear she might need to do it for an alliance between House Curran and others. She had feared she might never get to marry for love, which was why she sought it so much.

Xxxx

After spending the afternoon with Sansa and Jeyne and discussing marriage, Nalia was reminded so heavily of her parents that she could barely eat her supper. She was quiet at the table, with Sansa, Lady Catelyn, and even Arya asking her if she was alright. She replied that she was, but that she was just missing her septa. It was an easy lie that helped her forget her sadness for a moment, as she lacked so much fondness for Sorund. Lady Catelyn promised that Sansa and Arya's septa would try her best to accommodate her. Nalia murmured the appropriate thanks, and excused herself once the dinner was over.

She walked beneath the buttresses of the inner castle walls, looking for a spot in Winterfell that she could be alone without Sansa clipping her heels. The girl was absolutely lovely, and Nalia knew she meant well, but she was so bubbly and eager that Nalia felt bombarded if too much time was spent in her presence.

Her pale purple dress trailed behind her and she worked to gather the skirts so they didn't drag on the dirty stone. She sighed. Everything was far too new here. She didn't even know where she was headed.

Several paces in front of her, she spotted Theon Greyjoy, who she had not yet had much interaction with as he was usually out with the Stark boys, practicing archery or riding horses. He saw her approach and smiled, though it was quite a welcoming smile.

"Theon," she greeted him, returning a thin smile. "I pray this evening finds you well."

"Better now, m'lady," he replied, his grin growing ever wider.

"Lovely." Nalia had stopped walking. "Would you be so kind as to show me the sept?"

"Ain't got no sept here, m'lady," he explained. "Starks keep the old gods. But I can show you much more than that." He playfully grabbed her arm, but his grip was rather tight. "If you're wanting to be alone, Nalia, I know a great place we can do that together."

She shook her arm, but he held it between his fingers so she could not loose herself. "Please, Theon, I don't wish to."

"Come on, why not? We're both wards of Lord Stark, we might as well get on!" Theon insisted, and tried to pull Nalia towards the direction of the hall where his chambers were.

Nalia shook her arm even harder, forcing him to let go. "We may both be wards, but I am a Lady of House Curran, not a captured son of a fool!" she spat at him.

Theon's face twisted into a scowl. He leaned forward and grabbed her arm once again. "What did you say to me, you little bitch? You think you're better than me? My father is Balon Greyjoy, _Lord of Pyke_ , and if we were in the Iron Islands, he'd kill you for speaking to me that way!" He pushed Nalia against the wall, pinning her by both shoulders, and glared at her. Nalia whimpered.

"But we're not in the Iron Islands," came a calm, yet stern voice from behind. Jon had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, with Ghost at his side. The direwolf was still small, but he bared his teeth at Theon all the same, dripping with drool. "Let her go, Theon, and go on."

Theon was strong, but Jon was taller, and a much better fighter, if Bran's accounts to Nalia were to be taken as true. Theon let go of Nalia and spat at her feet. "I was just being hospitable, _your grace_ ," he said mockingly to Nalia. He turned to Jon. "Always the hero, Snow. Both of you aren't worth my time." He walked away and turned the corner to head to his chambers.

Jon did not approach, but simply watched Nalia and she leaned against the wall, tears drying on her cheeks, while she tried to slow her heart rate. She pressed a hand over her own chest and breathed in slowly. She looked at Jon and tried to smile, but she could only managed a quick one.

"Thank you, Jon," she said once she caught her breath.

Jon nodded. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "He might have though."

"No. He wouldn't dare do more than that. He's got a strange way of playing around, but he'd never do anything to dishonour you or anyone else in my family." Jon was stoic in the evening light. "I pray you have a good night, Nalia."

"Jon," she whispered before he turned to leave. "Please. I… I was just looking for the sept."

Jon shook his head. "No sept. We keep the old gods."

Nalia knew Theon had said that, and she should have remembered, but something about Jon was making her unable to think straight. "Right. Well… what do you have instead? Of a sept, that is."

Jon regarded her curiously. "Well, there's a godswood. But why would you want to go there?"

Nalia looked down at the cobblestone floor. "I just wanted to be alone somewhere, where I could think."

Jon's eyebrows were still raised, but he seemed to understand her need. "I know. I can take you there."

The pair started out of the castle's main grounds to go to the godswood. Jon was silent as they walked. Nalia wondered, did he have something on his mind? Was he annoyed by her request, or was he just shy? His long strides were difficult to keep pace with. She tried to catch his eye, but he looked straight ahead, as if he were on a mission that only he knew the point of. In a way, he was, as she had no idea where to find the godswood. She shivered, noticing the moon was beginning to appear.

Jon stopped on the path way and untied the furs from around his shoulders. Still without words, he draped them around Nalia's shoulders, and then finally spoke. "You should have one of these made."

Nalia smiled. "Thank you, Jon. I certainly need to." They continued to saunter silently, but Nalia was scorching inside. The simple gesture kept the smile on the her face until they reached the deep, dark trees of the godswood.

She had never seen one before. The Heart Tree's bleeding eyes frightened her and seemed to follow her with their hollow gaze. Still, it was a quiet and peaceful place. It wasn't a sept, but she could feel the spiritual presences around her. She sat down on a wide, backless bench of stone.

Jon stayed standing. "I'd leave you, Nalia, but it's too dark. I don't want you to head back to the castle alone. If Ghost were bigger, I'd leave you him…" The white direwolf jumped at his name and licked Jon's hand.

Nalia was surprised he'd even spoken. "It's alright, Jon. I don't mind. I just needed to think."

"May I?" Jon gestured to the spot beside her on the bench and she nodded. He sat and turned to her. "This is a good place to think. I come here all the time. It's quiet, and people rarely visit even though it's a place to worship." He stared straight ahead into the weirdwood tree's eyes. "I don't know what I believe about all that, but there's something here, it makes me feel…" His voice dropped low, as if he'd already said too much. His daily word quotient had been filled. "I'm sorry. You wanted to be alone. I should be silent." He turned again to stand once more, but Nalia caught him by the sleeve of his tunic.

"Jon, please," she insisted. He stayed put and she dropped her hand from his arm to her own knee. "I don't mind. I was only hoping to get some peace from your sisters. They are dear sweet girls, but I do like to have time to reflect." She drew the furs Jon had given her tightly around her shoulders and neck, and pressed her nose into them. They smelled like pine and firewood.

Jon smiled for the first time, a true, genuine smile. "My sisters are wonderful girls. They are simply happy to know you. But it's true, they can become overbearing."

Nalia smiled too. "You love them."

Jon nodded. "All of my brothers and sisters I love. They may only be half mine in blood, but they're all mine in here." He held a hand over his heart and smiled shyly.

"I always wanted a sister," Nalia confessed. "Now I can see that I may have taken that back as I grew older, but I do love spending time with girls. Having five older brothers gave me a window into a world unseen by many young ladies, but it did leave me feeling a little empty without someone I could share certain things with."

"Robb is that one for me," Jon explained. "He's my best friend. Bran and Rickon are great boys too. Even Theon, when he's not being a right ass, is a good man to spend time with."

"You're very lucky, Jon Snow," Nalia said softly. The breeze around them blew gently, providing a swishing sound of the trees to their otherwise quiet conversation.

"I've never thought so," he replied, his frown reappearing. "How lucky could the 'Bastard of Winterfell' be? I'll never be much."

"I think you're more than enough," Nalia blurted before she could stop herself.

Jon looked down at the ground, and then at her. In the moonlight she could see his dark brown eyes shining, and a small smile played at his lips, but he seemed to shy to make it fully form. He didn't respond but he kept smiling. Then, unexpectedly, he reached for her hand, and gave it a quick squeeze.

Nalia returned the gesture and smiled too. Maybe the boy who seemed to be made of stone wouldn't be as hard to crack as she had thought.

A/N: Hi friends! Thanks for all your reviews and likes! I spent about two hours on this chapter, trying to make it a bit longer and not rushing my story too much. Let me know if you like it. Also, I've never really done different POV stories but I was thinking about it for this one… would anyone be interested in a chapter from Jon's POV? Let me know, I'm considering it! Please review if you can! Xoxo Lilly

P.S. My last chapter was supposed to be longer, I edited it after the post was done and saved the edits but they never seemed to appear? Anyone have probs with this? Oh well, this one is longer! xo

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